Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from India and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Throbbing Gristle to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Brick,
The Litter,
Interpol,
Reagan Youth,
Au Pairs,
Tim Buckley,
Byron Stingily,
The Move,
Crispy Ambulance,
Circle Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Donald Byrd,
Mark Hollis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bootsy Collins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scott Walker,
Television Personalities,
Lalo Schifrin,
Masters at Work,
Eden Ahbez,
New York Dolls,
The Fortunes,
Pulsallama,
Rufus Thomas,
Das Ding,
Harmonia,
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Divine Comedy,
Joy Division,
Urselle,
Eric Copeland,
The Happenings,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tommy Roe,
Drexciya,
Rites of Spring,
The Doobie Brothers,
Deepchord,
Stiv Bators,
Dead Boys,
The Blackbyrds,
Erasure,
Shuggie Otis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minutemen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Essential Logic,
Bizarre Inc.,
Minor Threat,
Susan Cadogan,
Subhumans,
The Martian,
Gang of Four,
Chrome,
The Busters,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Vogues,
Black Bananas,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.